


Perfectly Imperfect

by SadieHerondale



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Avalon - Freeform, Felix is codependent, M/M, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Neverland Husbands, No Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Quests, Rufio is just weird af, Sorry Not Sorry, Toxic Relationship, almost adult themes, always quests, apples are a big thing, but not too bad, but when arent they, don't hate me, peter is a sociopath, sorry darlin'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieHerondale/pseuds/SadieHerondale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All his life, people have been telling Felix he isn't good enough-- and he doesn't care. All the insults and the mockery thrown at him wouldn't be there if they weren't true, right? Then one day, a green-eyed stranger in a pied cloak walks into his bar. Whether his life changes for the better, Felix doesn't know... but he does know that it's been changed for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Avalon._

_A magical island full of wonder and tranquility. A place where war hasn't threatened for hundreds of years and the inhabitants thrive under their benevolent ruler Morgan le Fay and her sisters. Legend has it that Avalon is actually the tree of life, born of a magical seed that Merlin the Great planted centuries ago, and that the magic of Avalon seeps from the very earth under which the roots of this great tree lie._

_***~*~*** _

"Another!" The declaration was accompanied by the telltale thunk of a tankard hitting the floor.

The barkeep sighed quietly before retrieving the cup, filling it full of fresh ale, and putting it back on the table in front of the man. "There you go, Walter."

Walter snorted in disgust even as he downed half the ale in one go. "What the hell is this supposed to be, boy? The dregs of the barrel?"

The barkeep ran his hand through his dirty blond hair, raising his eyebrow a little. "Well you're the one who drank the rest of it."

The man bristled in indignation, but didn't try anything. The last time he'd been kicked out of this bar, it had been with a broken nose and a sprained wrist; the barkeep knew he was stupid, but at least this one learned from his mistakes. It was one of the reasons Walter was even allowed back.

"Remind me to ask for the wench next time," he said suggestively, knowing it would get a rise out of the boy even as he finished his drink and threw a few coins down on the table.

The barkeep glared at him, but said nothing. It was a little after dusk, which meant that the evening rush would soon set in and he would have to start cleaning up his dingy bar. Scrubbing more blood off the floor was not on his list of priorities.

"See you tomorrow, Felix," the man called as he walked out the door.

Felix rolled his eyes in disgust. Walter was here every day until dusk so his wife would think he still had a job. It was a ridiculous ruse and Felix only wished he could be there to witness the backlash when he finally got caught. Instead, he picked up a rag and cleaned off the bar, swept the floor, and mopped up the spilled ale in Walter's general area.

"So I take it you're on first shift today?" A feminine voice asked. Felix looked up from the spill to see Cordelia in the doorway. She was dressed as she usually was, in an apron and a dark blue dress with dirty lace trim and a tightly laced bodice that was terrible for modesty but great for business. Her black hair was braided into a wreath around her head, providing a perfect frame for those startlingly blue, charcoal-lined eyes that drove the drunks absolutely wild.

"Always."

"How's the old man doing today?" Cordelia leaned on the bar with her chin in one hand and a tankard in the other.

Felix rolled his eyes, both at the unintentional display of skin and the question. "Same as usual."

Cordie seemed to get the hint that today wasn't one of his more talkative days and backed off a bit. While Felix finished cleaning up, she handled the first customers of the night.

Of course Felix's father took that as his cue to come out front and see his son doing the cleaning and the girl doing the "actual work." Felix barely had time to register the hand in his hair before it yanked him off the floor. He winced at the feeling, even knowing that his father hated when he showed weakness. 

"What're you doin', letting Cordelia run the bar on her own?" his father slurred. "All those guys eyeing her up, what kinda brother do you think you are?"

"I'm not her brother," Felix muttered against his better judgment. It was true that Cordelia's resemblance to Jaz was startling, but a father should know his own daughter from a bar wench.

"That's right. You're _not_. You're just a waste of space. Jaz and your mother shoulda lived, but they didn't. So get up and act in a way that doesn't make me regret keeping you."

"Elias, cut the boy some slack," one of the men called out. "He was just tryna get this dump in ship shape, and its not like there's anyone here who'd go near the girl with _him_ around."

Elias scoffed in disgust, but released his son's head. "Get yer act together boy," he warned drunkenly before retreating into the back with a fresh bottle of apple mead.

_One of the good bottles, too,_ Felix lamented silently, shaking his head. _I just made that batch last week._

When he got behind the bar, Cordelia handed him a tankard. "You look like you need it."

He took the mead appreciatively. "Apple?"

"With a squeeze of lemon, just how you like it." She scrubbed at an imagined speck on the bar. "I don't know why you put up with that."

One of the men guffawed. "He doesn't have a choice, C. Crazy as Elias might be, he's still the boy's father."

She rolled her eyes in disgust, but said nothing; it was an unspoken rule between them that if Felix decided not to defend himself, she wasn't allowed to either. Felix didn't need her help.

He didn't need anyone's help.

_***~*~*** _

He watched from the window, clothed in shadows. There didn't seem to be anything special about the boy. He was a little quiet for his age, and his father was clearly a drunk, but he was just a regular barkeep. 

So why did he have to keep watching him?

The answer was simple: because he wasn't just a regular barkeep. There had to be something special about him, or he wouldn't be in this cesspool of a village. He'd be back at the palace, waiting to see what adventures would come knocking. Speaking of... he was due back any minute now.

Soon, it approached: an inky silhouette with smoldering eyes. He took its hand and was whisked back to the palace.

"Report."

He knelt and bowed his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. His father got drunk again. The wench was late. He handled few customers today and did not need to remove anyone by force. When I left, he was drinking something."

"Nothing out of the ordinary, you say?" He shook his head, but worried about what would come next. He was rarely asked for confirmation unless he was wrong. "And yet, he did not need to remove anyone by force."

"No."

He could hear the sneer in the next words. "And do you not think, as he removes someone by force every day, that this is... _out of the ordinary_?"

He trembled a bit. "I-- I didn't think about that."

"Then you shouldn't have said it, should you?"

He shook his head, but wisely refrained from speaking. 

The telltale sound of a tongue clicking echoed through the room. "Normally, this would warrant some form of punishment. Lying to me is one of the worst moves you could make, wouldn't you agree? But I'll give you one more chance. One more opportunity to learn the rules of the game. Today was a little boring for you, I take it?"

He didn't know how to answer, so he remained silent.

_"Answer me."_

The words were quiet, barely a whisper, but he shivered in fear. "Y-Yeah, I guess..."

"Then how about tomorrow, we have a little... excitement?" 

He nodded, still staring at the flicker of firelight on the carpet. His neck was cramping and the fabric of his trousers grated on his knees, but looking up before he was told to would be far worse.

"Then tomorrow, I want you to go into the bar at sunset and make a scene. I want you to make him... escort you out. Make it a convincing performance, and maybe I'll consider leaving you in your current situation. Understood?" He nodded.

"Good. Don't disappoint me, Rufio. I have such high hopes for you. Dismissed."

Rufio looked up to see a flash of green in the firelight, then he was alone.


	2. Chapter 1

By the end of the night, Felix was exhausted. The evening rush hadn't been as bad as he anticipated, but the gossip bouncing around from customer to customer and then back again gave him a headache. 

"Did you hear about that guard?"

"Oh yes, the one that was hung?"

"No, I heard he was decapitated."

"My cousin's sister-in-law was there, and _she_ said..."

Felix hid his face in his hands. _Sometimes I wish the world would just shut up. Luckily, the night's almost over._ A few hours more, and he would be asleep. 

Cordelia wiped out a tankard. "You heard about that man, right?"

Felix groaned. She knew how much he hated gossip, so why did she insist on doing this every night? "I've been hear _ing_ about the man. Does that count?"

"Don't be daft. None of these morons know what they're talking about," she scoffed, not bothering to lower her voice. A few of the men glared at her, but looked away quickly when Felix caught their eye. 

He knew there was something unsettling about the color of his eyes; they were too light to be considered truly grey, but too dark to be unnatural and magical. When that gaze hardened in anger and fell upon someone that had ever seen him kicking out unruly customers, it was as though the gods themselves had sewn their lips shut. No one was dumb enough to provoke him.

"Anyway," Cordelia continued, oblivious, "It was one of Lady Le Fay's guards, Phillip. A few days ago, he was found guilty of sodomy."

"Hm," Felix responded, uninterested. Lady Le Fay's guards' lives were their own, as were their decisions. If they chose to participate in sodomy, that was their mistake and Felix couldn't reasonably be expected to care overmuch about it.

"I know. And he was drawn and quartered in the square this morning." She tutted, pouring another drink. "Terrible."

"I suppose." He was more worried about the mess that would be on the cobblestone streets in the morning-- it was bad for business.

"Hey," Cordelia tapped him on the shoulder to get his full attention. She pointed across the bar. "New customer in your section."

He groaned and brushed his hair out of his face. "At this time of night?"

But when he looked, it was true. A small figure sat at one of the tables in a ratty pied cloak with his hood pulled up. Felix sighed and walked over. "Getcha something?"

The man-- _boy_ , really; he was probably a little younger than Felix himself --looked up just enough for Felix to catch a glimpse of a grin. "What do you recommend?"

"The ale's popular," Felix drawled. 

The stranger tilted his head slightly. "I asked what _you_ liked, not what these drunkards like."

Felix was a little taken aback, but realized that he was right; the regulars would've drunk cat urine if he distilled it right. He almost grinned. "I like the mead."

"Two of those then."

"Right." Felix walked back to the bar to get him the drinks. Must be new in town, he thought as he filled two tankards. Felix's apple mead was applauded in every tavern in the region, but it was much more expensive than average because he brewed it himself rather than buying bulk from the distillery. Tourists would drink a half a barrel before asking what their tab was, then pay up and leave angrily, never to be seen again. Because of this, most people stuck with the ale and he'd ended up basically hoarding it into a private collection.

He shook his head ruefully as he finished filling the tankards and squeezed some lemon into it on habit. Only when he'd already done it did he realize that he'd just made his favorite drink for a stranger, without being asked. He was usually better about those kinds of things. Oh well, no point wasting perfectly good drinks. 

Felix brought the cups back to the boy and set them down. "If you don't pay before you leave I'll put it on a tab and believe me, you don't wanna try skipping town before you pay off your tab," he warned. 

The boy chuckled and handed him a small pouch. "Will this cover it?"

Inside the pouch were several coins-- _gold_ coins. Felix had never seen so much money at once before. It could have bought every drop of alcohol behind his bar and probably for the rest of the month. "This is--"

"Keep the change," the boy said, taking a drink. "Hm. The rumors weren't wrong. This is good." 

"Why..."

The boy shrugged. "I was hoping to get a little of your time. I'm new to the area and you're the only person here that isn't totally drunk."

Felix hazarded a glance to the bar and yes, Cordelia was at least slightly too inebriated to be considered sober. He made a mental note to hide the white liquor from her on the job. "I-- I think I can do that. As long as the hood comes off. It's making the regulars uncomfortable."

The boy huffed playfully, but pulled back the patchwork hood to reveal brown hair and an elfish face with green eyes. "So are you going to sit with me or keep standing there awkwardly?"

"Oh." Felix sat across from the boy. "So what did you want to know?"

"How about I start with your name?"

"I'm Felix." He tried to figure out why it felt so weird that this boy didn't know him. They'd only just met and this was just polite conversation.

"Felix," the boy repeated. "That's a good name. I'm Peter."

"Nice to met you," he said quietly. 

Peter grinned. "So what do people do for fun around here?"

Was he serious? In a town this poor, _fun_ wasn't a concept anyone wasted any time thinking about; they worked, they hit the tavern after work to unwind a bit before going home to sleep and doing it all over again the next day. The bag of gold weighed heavily in Felix's pocket. "Not much."

"Pity. Seems like most of you could use some excitement."

"We get plenty of _that_ ," Felix answered quickly. "There are a lot of fights and royal punishments and such here."

Peter scoffed. "I have no doubt. But those aren't fun. Those are par for the course no matter where you go."

"Seems like you're the type that likes mischief, not fun."

A spark lit in the other boy's eyes. "But aren't they the same thing, in some circumstances?"

Felix shrugged. He honestly wouldn't know, since he'd never really made any problems on purpose. He was one of those saps that got up, worked, and went to sleep every day. 

Peter wouldn't have that, it seemed. "One of these days, I'm going to teach you how to have fun," he promised. "Real fun, not watching royal executions."

_My father will hate that,_ Felix thought, but he found himself nodding anyway. "Sure, whatever."

For the rest of the night, Peter grilled him about everything there was to know about the village: the town gossips _(Ruby and Ella)_ , who to avoid _(Killian and Walter)_ , where the market was _(down the road on Thursdays, you can't miss it),_ had he heard about the guard _(yes)_ , was he there to see it _(no)_ , what were the woods like at night _(dangerous, but Felix kind of liked it)_ , how did he make his apple mead _(secret recipe that he'd come up with himself and_ no, _he wasn't telling)_ , and other random bits of information that he probably could have picked up anywhere but for some reason he'd decided to choose Felix of all people as his tour guide.

For once, last call came a little too soon-- not that he would ever admit to enjoying Peter's company; on the contrary, he was working very hard to come off as politely annoyed at the amount of arbitrary questions he was being asked. 

As people began clearing out of the tavern, Felix stretched. "Goodnight Peter," he said in a tone that warranted no argument. 

A flash of annoyance lit Peter's eyes for a second, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by a friendly grin. He held out his hand for Felix to shake and smiled even wider when it was accepted. Felix had no expectation that he would ever see the boy again, so what harm could it do to be a little friendly? Peter's eyes lit up, but it wasn't the friendliest look. There was something almost... calculating in his gaze that intrigued Felix as much as it terrified him.

"I hope to see you around."

Yet another sentence that Felix had no idea how to respond to.

_***~*~*** _

It was exciting, meeting the object of his interest after so long, but Peter was more than a little surprised by how observant the boy had turned out to be. He'd known that Rufio couldn't be trusted to handle all of the minute details that made up a person; that was Peter's unique talent. He'd always had a knack for people watching, which was what made it so easy for his plans to go accordingly. Not that he credited his success solely on talent. It had taken a good deal of practice to get to where he was now. He didn't expect the boys to be that good. Hell, the last one that _had_ had... mysteriously vanished without a trace. 

What could Peter say? He didn't much like competition.

Felix, if not a huge challenge to break, would be interesting to play with. He was as lost as any other boy in the area, but there was something there-- a spark of something that Peter couldn't identify, but found intensely intriguing. At least, in this case, it wasn't willpower. Felix's will would not be his biggest problem here. If anything, it would be his lack thereof. A man without will was one easily manipulated.

Peter would have to completely redraw Felix. He'd have to erase all the harsh lines of life and smear out all the details of memory before sketching out a whole new pattern. Something exciting, full of life, and unflinchingly loyal to Peter, and Peter alone. He's have to fill Felix's world with color while leaving a few shades of grey to keep him around, wanting more. Otherwise, his weak will would allow others to come in after Peter, would allow them to take him from Peter, and he didn't take kindly to people taking his belongings.

As he roamed the halls of the castle that night, he started brainstorming ideas for Felix's new design. The torchlight flickered on the stone walls, filling the corridors with an eerie glow and millions of ever-changing shadows. Tapestries hung all around and the silver decor desperately needed a good polishing. A spider sat in its web in the corner, patiently awaiting the next fly or moth that would be ignorant enough to fly to its death in his home. Peter had always loved spiders: they were brilliant designers of beautiful architecture that were transient at best-- things that got destroyed or used up, only to be replaced by something even better, even more effective as it got more practice. Peter grinned to himself. Felix would eventually get caught in his web, he knew. The challenge would be to craft the boy into exactly what he needed: a lieutenant, someone he could leave in charge of the boys when he wasn't around. Felix would be exactly the boy for the job, so long as Peter played his cards right. He snickered a little in the deserted hall.

_When was the last time,_ he thought, _that I ever played my cards **wrong?**_


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antisocial Personality Disorder - a fancy way of saying sociopath
> 
> I'm sorry this is so incredibly late, but you know how it is. Life happens. Enjoy! :)

Despite all of Felix's original expectations (or perhaps because of them; it was hard to tell with this boy that seemed to know all of his ideas before they were even thoughts), Peter was back the next day just a little before sunset, wearing his pied wool cloak in the middle of summer.

Felix was scrubbing the floor behind the bar on his hands and knees and didn't notice Peter's arrival until Walter snorted. "Ain't you a little young to be in a place like this at this time'a day, boy?"

"Aren't you a little old to be lazing around a place like this at this time of day, sir?" Felix looked up over the counter to see Peter smiling at the man politely. "I'm sure a man of your... girth... has a decent job and family."

Felix had to hold in a smirk when Walter grumbled and went back to his ale without another word. It wasn't often that he met people with the nerve to stand up to a man Walter's size, and never with a smile on their face. He stood up. "What'll you have, Peter?"

"The same."

Felix nodded and poured a tankard of mead. He set it in front of Peter, who reached down for his purse. 

"On the house," he said quickly. If Walter-- or, Merlin forbid, his father --saw how much money Peter carried around, it could get ugly; besides, he'd already paid for at least this. He was amazed the boy hadn't been mugged already, but something in Felix's gut told him to pity the mugger that went after Peter.

Peter took a sip and made a face. _Well that's offensive. He seemed to like it well enough last night. That should be the same batch, what's different about it now? What did I do wrong? Did I even do anything wrong? Obviously, or he wouldn't have--_

"It's a little different." Peter raised an eyebrow. "Almost like it's missing something."

 _Missing something..._ It hit him. "Oops." _Weird. Most people don't like the lemon juice. Good to know._ Felix cut up a lemon and squeezed a few drops into the tankard with an internal wince; it was bad for the pewter, but at this point that wasn't even a concern. He handed the cup to Peter, concealing his nerves.

There was something about him; Felix was used to complaints about his drinks-- enjoyed them, even. One of the regulars, Edgar Allan-something-or-another, had said once that an author needed to be open to criticism, because if the audience was saying it, it was true. Then he'd stumbled outside and died out in the gutter (which had been highly inconvenient the next day). But when Peter said something... It was almost as if a spell was put on him. He _needed_ to make Peter accept him. 

He let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief when Peter's frown slid into a satisfied grin. "Much better."

Felix let himself nod, expressionless, before returning to the stubborn spot on the floor that refused to come clean. 

It was strange, having someone other than Walter here to fill the space during the day. Even though he couldn't see Peter, he was undoubtedly a presence in the room. No one could deny that the boy was there. Not even Walter, who was being uncharacteristically quiet. Normally he would be whining about something or another his wife had done and how he'd "given that bitch what-for" in whatever creative way he had that made Felix sick to his stomach with anger.

The silence was as unsettling as it was refreshing. "You know Peter, if you have a knife to Walter's throat to keep him quiet, I might have to kick you out for an hour or two," he said, grinning at the floor.

Walter spluttered and Peter laughed from above Felix's head. "No, I'm not doing anything, I promise."

Felix hummed in acknowledgement and finally got that annoying stain out of the wood; as close to out as it was going to get, anyway. He stood up and stretched, feeling several vertebrae pop back into place painfully. _I really should get that looked at one of these days,_ he thought, rubbing his neck with a wince.

"Something wrong?" Peter asked, looking up from a small book in front of him.  
Felix shook his head, not wanting to bother Peter with his problems; he still didn't really know the boy, and Felix's problems were his own. "What are you drawing?"

Peter cocked a brow. "Have a look."

He turned the book toward Felix. On the open page was... something. It looked like a cross between a tapestry design and an anatomical model. A faceless human figure lay tangled, spreadeagled on a criss-crossed background that looked suspiciously like a spiderweb. The shading and depth were expertly done, making it the most realistic faceless man Felix had ever seen in ink. That was where the artistry ended though. Lines and arrows indicated different parts of the body and strange markings covered the empty space on the opposite sides. Felix supposed they were letters. 

It was a revelation, meeting someone who could read. It meant that at some point in his life, Peter had spent a lot of time in the palace. As good of a person Felix was, that was something he couldn't forgive.

"It's nice," he said coldly.

Peter looked at him. "Have I done something to offend you?"

Walter chortled, spraying droplets of alcohol-laced spittle all over the newly-cleaned counter. "So you're a palace rat, are ya boy?"

The look Peter gave him could have cut diamonds. "My brother and I were, until he died. Now I'm an apprentice. What's it to you?"

 _Dammit Walter, don't say anything,_ Felix pleaded silently, keeping a straight face as he cleaned the counter yet again. _It's not your story to tell._

"See, Felix here, he's got a bone to pick with the crown," Walter said, all smirks and wisdom. "You're gonna hafta find another bar."

"Oh?"

Walter nodded sagely. "See, a few years back, there was a problem with a coupla the workin' girls down the way and Felix's mother and his sister, Jaz, got their selves killed by the guards for stickin' their stupid noses--" Felix glared at Walter, telling him silently not to go there. He didn't listen. "--where they didn' belong. Coulda been avoided if Jaz hadn't been such a prude. The guard offered to let them go, but she just had to keep that pretty little dress of hers all shut up tight--"

Felix growled slightly at the man and he finally got the hint. "Walter, get out."

"I was just--"

Felix pulled the knife from his belt and twirled it lazily, in stark contrast to the murderous look in his eye. "Get the hell out of my bar, you drunken ass, and don't come back until you have a job to pay off your considerable tab. If you drink another drop or say another word at my bar, you'd better have the funding and the brains to back it up or there will be hell to pay."

He raised an eyebrow. "Was that a threat, boy?"

Felix's eyes flashed dangerously. "Does it have to be?"

Walter tried his best to look menacing, but the effect was lost when his hairless scalp began to shine with nervous sweat. "Your father will hear about this," he warned.

 _As problematic as that could be, even he doesn't put up with people calling his dead daughter a prude._ "I have no doubt. Now get out of my tavern before I have to clean your blood off the floor."

_***~*~*** _

Peter watched the whole exchange with a detached amusement, making mental notes to add to his design later on. He'd known, of course, that revealing his own literacy would illicit some form of reaction, but not one so... _raw._

It certainly was intriguing, watching Felix, so cold and professional, lose that mask-- if only for a moment. Getting rid of that great oaf was a side bonus, but a bonus nonetheless. Now he had to keep from becoming the next target of Felix's wrath. _How to do that... Well, a little sympathy never went amiss, and a bit of helpful information to plant the seed of trust..._

"I'm sorry about your family," Peter said, knowing he sounded sincere. "I didn't know."

"You wouldn't," the blond boy muttered. "You're new to town."

 _And now for the seed._ "No, I really should know. Before my brother died, when I lived in the palace, we used to listen to the guards all the time. They used to brag to each other about what they'd done that day. I always thought it was awful." He looked down at the bar for effect.

Felix's breath quickened by a hair, but his voice was steady. "Just drop it already. You seem like a nice enough guy, and I don't hate everyone from the palace just for being from the palace. Just drink your drink and let me work."

He didn't wait for a response before walking around the bar to light the lanterns and wipe off the tables one last time. A flash of color outside the window alerted Peter to Rufio's presence. He caught his eye through the glass and waved him off, letting Rufio off the hook this time. He hadn't been in the best mood all day, what with Tink simultaneously quivering in fear of him and pining after him all day. He'd been a little hard on Rufio, and he had the feeling that he and Felix could be good friends. That could be very useful someday.

Speaking of Tinkerbell... Her telltale jingle went off in his mind, telling him he was late, _again,_ and would he _please_ stop making her call him every single week?

He rolled his eyes and finished his drink. She was only ever this bold when they weren't face to face, and she knew he knew it. 

"I have to go somewhere but I'll see you tomorrow, Felix," he said before standing up, snickering inwardly when the boy looked startled. _Oh, you didn't think I'd let you go that easy did you? You get a little angry and expect me to leave forever? Good luck. If anything, I'm even more interested in you now._ "Expect my lovely face to grace your world again at sunset."

Peter made sure to drop a wink at Felix before walking out the door, laughing when he heard a chair drop in surprise.

_***~*~*** _

_Antisocial personality disorder. What a joke,_ Peter thought yet again, staring at the bland waiting room walls. _I'm incredibly social. Just ask the boys._

Tink sat with him, throwing side glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking. The secretary-- Ella, was it? or Emily? --did the same. Peter hated therapy days; all he did was snark at his shrink for an hour and then go home to Avalon, but being in the land without magic made him... itchy. Still, Merlin did insist after Malcom died.

Actually, Merlin insisted after Malcom died in Peter's arms and Peter didn't shed a single tear, but details were entirely unimportant. 

The point was, now Peter was stuck in downtown Los Angeles every Friday at six pm to listen to some imbecile who believed that having a degree meant she knew what she was talking about. Who believed that sticking the label _sociopath_ , with so much stigma and hatred attributed to it, would somehow make his life easier. All it had done was bring out the mother-hen side of the most powerful man to ever exist and make it harder for Peter to get whatever he wanted at any given point. So he liked to play games, so what? Why did it matter if death didn't faze him? It happened often enough, right?

"Malcom Gold," the secretary called. To her credit, she barely flinched when Peter flashed a bright smile at her. Maybe he should get to know her name, charm the pants off her. _Nah,_ he thought, looking at her chest. _She's got the wrong parts._

Tink stayed behind, as usual, reading some magazine while Peter went upstairs. Emma greeted him with a warm smile. "Hello, Malcom. How's everything been going this week?"

Peter let out an exasperated breath before resigning himself to yet another wasted hour of his forever.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, things are getting interesting. 
> 
> There are some definitions and clarifications of uncommon words and stuff at the end. I did incredibly extensive apple research to find the exact ones that Felix needs.
> 
> As always, this is entirely unedited because I'm lazy af. Enjoy!

Felix was running low on booze.

Not the cheap, watered down, almost effective sewage that was so popular; they bought that in bulk to keep up with the needs of the average housewife in his village. Every house had to have at least a barrel of the stuff to drink with meals, otherwise... well, Felix had seen the bruises women would walk in with after running out in the middle of dinner. The tavern kept enough stocked that all anyone had to do was pay up, and a bucket was theirs with no real loss of inventory. No, it wasn't that crap that was running low. It was the mead.

He had brewed enough of the stuff in mid-fall to last until the apples were ripe again around All-Hallow's-Eve. Apples were never out of season in Avalon, of course, but certain ones only ripened at certain times in the year. One of these was known as the Midnight Apple, brought over by Merlin from a faraway realm called Arkansas. Its deep red skin was almost black, even in broad daylight, and it had the most unique flavor of any apple Felix had ever come across. It had taken him two years to get the recipe right and another three to figure out how much to make so that his father wouldn't run out until brewing season came around again in fall. He'd finally gotten it right and had been working on a pattern ever since.

Then Peter had come along. The stupid palace rat that always seemed to have the right words at the right time and enough money to buy a tankard of Felix's mead at last a few days a week. And Felix could never bring himself to tell the boy no. Now it was midsummer and he was down to his last few barrels. It would be at least two months until the Midnight Apples were ripe again, and the way his father had been guzzling the stuff it wouldn't last half that.

"Then just use another apple," Cordelia suggested one night. Peter had gone off to do... whatever it was he did every fifth day of the week and wouldn't be here until long after sunset, and the regulars hadn't quite shown up yet. "Didn't you do that once?"

"Yes, and look how well that went over." Felix touched his scar absentmindedly, knowing that if he didn't come up with a solution fast, there would be far worse in his future.

Cordie rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I don't see why you're still here, Felix. He treats you so terribly and you're--"

"Used to it," he snapped. "We're not having this discussion again."

"But if you'd just come live with me, you'd be--"

"No." Felix avoided her eyes. Elias was a complete ass of a man. He knew that, and yet... He was the only son. Even more than that, Elias was the only family Felix had left and he'd be damned if he left that behind to go live with a woman like Cordelia. They'd had this discussion far too many times, and known each other too long; she knew exactly what he was thinking, and it was usually the end of it.

"What about Peter?"

Damn her. "I couldn't live with him either. He's a palace rat who lives and breathes trouble. And besides--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Family and all that." Cordelia rolled her eyes and took a sip from her tankard, and that was the end of that conversation.

The hours rolled by without another mention of Elias, but Felix couldn't stop thinking about how to manage more alcohol. He had no more than a week to pull enough Midnight Apples out of thin air to make two months' worth of drink and no idea how to do it. It was useless worrying about it at this point, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself.

 _It's my fault for not noticing sooner,_ Felix realized. _I should have seen that it was running low and refused Peter. It might have lasted-- well, think of the devil. Is it that late already?_

Apparently so. Peter walked in an took his usual seat at the counter, lowering his hood. He watched Felix for a moment before speaking. "You seem troubled, Felix. Can I help?"

 _Uncanny. It's absolutely uncanny how well he can read me._ Felix rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Despite this entire situation being Peter's fault to begin with, and his permanent status as a palace rat, he couldn't stay mad at the kid; he just had this air about him that radiated repressed sadness. He didn't even seem aware of it, either, which made it hard not to feel bad about blaming him for just about anything. "No. I can deal with it on my own."

The other boy wagged his finger at him and smirked. "Ah, but you don't have to. What else are friends for?"

Friends. Felix didn't even have time to be shocked at the word before Cordelia was interrupting. "Well unless you know of any ripe Midnight Apples in the area, you're pretty useless there, lover," she said frostily.

"Oh? Is that all?" Peter's voice was like honey on the edge of a razor, his smile like venom.

Despite her earlier suggestion that Felix live with him, Cordelia didn't particularly like Peter and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Felix never understood it, but it was like she barely tolerated his presence in the bar; he had the feeling that if he turned around for a single second, one of them would be missing and probably never found. He'd never pegged Cordie for the violent type before, seeing her more as a woman with a big heart and... loose morals, but something about Peter just set her off like a badly aimed arrow.

"Alright, you two, simmer down," he muttered. "It's bad enough dealing with the customers, I'd prefer not to have to throw you out as well."

"Oi! Wench! Gimme 'nother," one of the regulars slurred. Felix's hackles rose but she just rolled her eyes and shot another icy glare at Peter before going to deal with the man.

"Don't mind her," Felix said, as he always did. "She's just..."

"She's protecting you because she loves you," Peter finished for him with a secret smile. "You're her family. It's ironic, really, all things considered," he finished almost inaudibly.

And you? Felix wanted to ask. Why are you still in my life? You've seen the hell I live but you're still here every day with that damn smile on your face, trying to make it better. Why?

"I suppose," is all he said, wiping out a tankard distractedly.

Peter smacked his hands on the table enthusiastically. "Anyway, on to the matter at hand: you need apples. Midnights, if memory serves?" Felix nodded forlornly, knowing that Peter would probably say something about how it was the wrong time of year and what did he need them for anyway? But once again, the boy surprised him.

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to know where there's an orchard near here, and the fruit's ripe year-round," he said with a grin. Felix found himself noticing the whiteness of his teeth and the green of his eyes rather than the words he'd said.

Once they did get through to him, though, he was stunned. Midnight Apples only ripened near Samhain. It was part of why their coloring was what it was. "You-- _what_?"

That small, secret smile was back. It lit Peter's face with darkness and Felix got the impression that it was just for him. "Being an apprentice has its perks."

An apprentice... Peter had mentioned that at some point, hadn't he? But an apprentice to who, exactly? How would he know of an orchard that, by all reasoning, had to have some of Avalon's most powerful magic?

And most of all, did Felix really care?

He just offered Peter the barest of grins; more than he tended give anyone on the best of occasions, but he figured the situation warranted it.

"Closing's in an hour."

_***~*~*** _

Finally, a break. It had been a rough week, what with Felix barely opening up to him, Merlin attempting to put him on lockdown (though of course that didn't work because _hello_ ), and now that _bitch_ Emma, finally managing to do her job right for once. Somehow, she'd wheedled Felix's name out of him and then wouldn't stop pestering him about it. She was like one of those obnoxious teenage girls on the soap operas that was always playing in the waiting room, asking him if he was interested, how he felt, what was he _like_ , and all the other irritating questions that Peter refused to answer.

Now, at least they were getting somewhere. It would be breaking a few somewhat important rules, but Peter had never cared about those much anyway. Especially when his mood was as foul as it was presently. Peter wanted Felix, and if a few Midnight Apples would get him closer to that goal, Merlin and his rules could... What was the phrase?

Kiss his ass.

The last hour was as boring as the tavern tended to be without Felix's company. Peter spent most of his time antagonizing the wench, Cordelia. Or at least, that was what she was calling herself. She'd done pretty well for herself all these years, holing up in some tavern in the middle of nowhere to keep herself unknown. And the bar wench facade-- absolute genius!

Even he would have been fooled, if not for one thing. Cordelia was easily the most beautiful woman he'd seen outside of the palace, and he was a realm crosser for god's sake. She did her best to try to hide it, covering her face with dirt, biting her nails, putting up her hair, but there was only so much anyone could do with looks like that.

It would be fun, seeing how he could hold that tidbit of information over her, but right now he had an orchard to get to and a blond boy to design.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The apples Felix is angsting about are called Arkansas Blacks. They're harvested at the end of October and have subtle aromas of dry wine and hickory bark, which is the "unique flavor" Felix needs. to make his mead.
> 
> All-Hallow's-Eve/Samhain is the pagan holiday that Halloween was rooted in. On this day, it was believed that the veil between worlds was thinnest. Many historians interpret it as the world of the dead and the living, but it was actually the veil between all worlds. You know, speaking as a Pagan myself. :)


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is late af but there's been a lot going on lately and then sterek happened and I have too many OTPs for my writer brain to keep all of them balanced but I'm back in Panlix mode for the moment so. Enjoy!

Felix closed up shop early. That is to say, he left Cordelia in charge with strict orders to close _at closing time_ and not whenever she felt like it. Then he put on his cloak and followed Peter out the door.

They walked in silence for a while, which suited Felix just fine, but seemed to bore Pan. "By the way, you never did mention why you need Midnight Apples at this time of year."

Felix shouldn't want to respond, he knew. His ale was his most closely guarded secret; only Cordelia knew the ingredients, and even she didn't know the exact recipe. But somehow he found himself wanting to tell Peter everything about it, every detail of the recipe, the reason it existed in the first place, how he perfected it. He swallowed the urge down and said simply:

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Peter smirked at him, teeth shining silver at Felix in the light of the full moon. "That I would," he said, tone implying that he hadn't really expected anything different from Felix at all. "I want to know a lot about you Felix."

"You know more about me than I do about you," Felix refuted, blushing for some ungodly reason. He was glad of the darkness because it meant Peter couldn't see the embarrassing flush spread across his face and neck.

Peter hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose that's true. How about this? You can ask me whatever questions you want if I may do the same."

Of course Peter would make this a game. Felix had spent enough time with the other boy to know that this was his default, but he couldn't help being intrigued. He nodded once in agreement. "How do you know where to find Midnights in the off season like this?"

"My employer," Peter said simply. "My turn. How did you get stuck running the tavern?"

"My father," Felix retorted. He wasn't afraid to answer that one, since it was common knowledge. "Where do you disappear to every Friday?"

The grin melted off of Peter's face for the first time since Felix met him, replaced with a truly terrifying scowl that made the boy want to shrink into himself and beg for forgiveness for a crime he wasn't sure he committed. It wasn't even like when his father came at him; the look on Peter's face made his very soul quiver in an unknown fear. Or rather, a fear of the unknown danger Peter had the potential to pose. He didn't take back his question though, and after a few awkward minutes of Peter seemingly debating his answer, he spoke. 

"Hell." The scowl was gone, but the grin definitely wasn't back in place. Peter seemed to be focusing very hard on the road ahead of him. "I go to my own personal hell."

Felix couldn't help but feel responsible for putting the smile back on Peter's face. After all, they were... _friends_... right? That's what the other boy had said. And based on Felix's limited knowledge of the subject, that meant making Peter feel better, especially when he fucked up. 

"You know..." He wasn't really sure how to say this, but he had Peter's attention and there was no going back now so he decided that there couldn't be much harm in just doing it. "You're doing me a favor here, Peter. A huge one. So if there's... If you ever need anything, let me know."

Peter looked at him, curiosity and a hint of something else written all over his face. "Anything?"

Instinct shouted at Felix that it wasn't the right thing to say, but he said it anyway because instinct was also shouting at him that Peter _needed_ to be smiling, or at least grinning. Something other than this utterly terrifying blankness or that soul-shaking scowl. "Anything."

His wish was granted when Peter smirked proudly, like Felix had lived up to his expectations. "I'll keep that in mind. For the moment, we're here."

Felix looked up, startled. He'd been paying so much attention to Peter that he hadn't even noticed they were still walking. But when he saw where they were, it took his breath away.

The orchard wasn't beautiful, and calling it that would be an insult to the sight before him. Endless rows of trees and vines and bushes grew in hundreds of shades of red, green, gold, permeating the air with the scent of ripe fruit and blooming flowers. In the silver glow of the moonlight, the orchard seemed to give off a calming, violet aura. Even the stars seemed to shine brighter, turning the midnight sky into a canvas of violet and sapphire stardust centered around the bright white disk shining, it seemed, upon this place and this place alone. No, this orchard wasn't _beautiful._

It was _bewitching._

"Lovely, isn't it?" Peter asked softly. All Felix could do was nod dumbly. He was speechless, almost teary-eyed at the sight before him. He'd never been emotional, and certainly never over _beauty_ , but he couldn't help himself. There was no doubt it was magic; he should have hated it and hated it with all his strength, but if magic could be used like this... perhaps it wasn't as bad as he had thought originally. 

"Come," Peter says, taking hold of his shoulder. "We're here for a reason."

Felix snapped out of his daze at the reminder of his purpose and the trouble he would find himself in if he came home empty handed. "Right."

The other boy led him silently through rows upon rows of cherries, pears, and a hundred more fruits that Felix couldn't even begin to name before Peter stopped in front of a short, bushy tree heavy with black fruit.

"Help yourself." Peter grinned at him, totally at ease in this modern Eden. "Take as many as you need."

It dawned on Felix that he didn't think to bring a basket, so he shrugged off his cloak. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Not at all." Peter's grin turned wicked. "But I'm the one that's going to get in trouble."

And damn if that didn't make Felix feel terrible. "Peter--"

He waved Felix off. "Oh, don't get sentimental on me now. I'm always in trouble, it's not an inconvenience or an unusual event. I always get out of it."

"But--"

"Hey," Peter cut him off sharply, not angry but serious. "If there's one thing you ever learn about me, make it this. I never get myself into a jam I can't get out of. I _never_  fail."

And somehow, despite the improbability of that statement, Felix found himself believing it.

**_~oOo~_ **

Excellent progress. They were making _excellent_ progress here. At this rate, Felix would be his by mid-fall. 

Felix bringing up Fridays had been an unexpected opportunity, a chance to give him the tiniest hint of Peter's wrath without scaring him off too badly. And it had gone so much better than Peter could have dreamed, piquing the boy's concern and prompting the perfect response. 

Well, almost the perfect response. Peter was capable of patience though. He was willing to wait for Felix to become fully submissive, fully attuned to Peter's every need. For tonight though, Peter was satisfied with simply taking Felix home once he's gathered up the apples in his cloak for however much ale he planned to make.

Oh yes, Peter had connected the dots. And if Felix's urgency and they way he unconsciously kept running his fingers over the scar on his face were signs (which they were), there would have been very real pain in Felix's future had Peter not intervened. 

That made his blood boil. No one was allowed to hurt his boys but him, least of all drunken wastes of skin like the man Peter had decided Felix's father was. But that would be dealt with in time, and in the meantime he was sure Felix could handle it. After all, what the boy lacked in willpower (nearly everything), he made up for in strength of mind. It was what made him so very, very interesting. 

Well, that and being pretty. But that was a goal for another day entirely, given the inherent homophobia of Avalon versus the land without magic. 

It wasn't a prevalent issue; he'd have forever to use Felix in any way he pleased once Peter made the boy his.

He fixated on these thoughts and more until he got back to the palace, where another problem awaited him in the form of a scowling faerie.

"You are in _so_  much trouble," she says snappishly, cranky with Peter in a way she only dared to be when woken up. 

He fixed that with a sharp look that had her cowering in seconds. "Your point?"

"N--nothing," she said, voice quivering. Peter couldn't decide whether it was out of terror or desire and honestly couldn't have given less of a shit if he wanted to. Tinkerbell had been fun to play with for all of twelve days when she first arrived, and maybe five or six in the following months before she had gotten to be a nuisance. When she finally figured out his habit of breaking his toys, she had simultaneously gotten more infatuated and more persistent. And as Merlin's second apprentice, she was an annoyance Peter was forced to deal with for the time being. 

An irritating miscalculation, but not one he was incapable of dealing with. 

"Oh, Peter! You're back!" A feminine voice calls out to him. He and Tinkerbell turned to the source and Peter fixes a realistic, relaxed smile on his face. Fourth Princess Glitonea was his newest and most useful plaything, and for some reason (though Peter would risk a guess, if asked) she hurried toward the pair. "Merlin wishes to see you, and I told him I'd fetch you for him."

"Did you now?" Peter turned his smile teasing in order to hide the sneer that threatened.Glitonea was a spoiled brat with a nasally voice and looks that only barely met the standard for her other eight sisters. Beyond that, she was _female_. 

But she was the sister with Morgan's ear, the sister with the most sway, so Peter played and played well. She was head over heels for him, which gave him several advantages he used whenever necessary.

He met her with that same smile and a chaste kiss to the cheek. "Good evening, love."

Okay, maybe he did it a little bit so that Tink would back the hell off for a few moments, because what Glitonea got, she didn't share and Tinkerbell was very aware of this. 

The princess giggled and took his hand, dragging him down the hall. "Come, I promised Merlin I would come get you."

"And why would you do that?" Peter asked rhetorically, feigning amusement and forcing the bile in his throat back down.

Glitonea stopped and turned to pout at him. "Because I wanted to see you, naturally. Did you not miss me today?"

Not at all, Peter thought. Out loud, he injected a twinge of distress into his voice. "Of course my love. My days are empty without you there to fill them."

"Are you sure of that?" she asked, making some attempt at coyness and playing with the drawstring on his cloak.

"Naturally." Peter settled his hands on her too-feminine waistline and pulled her close. "However can I convince you of that, I wonder?"

"I can think of a few ways," she giggled obnoxiously, and Peter had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes before leaning down to kiss her.

Glitonea always said it was cute that he closed his eyes when they kissed, but he highly doubted that she would consider it cute if she knew that he did it to make kissing her almost tolerable. That when he closed his eyes, he imagined a pair of piercing silver eyes and bony hips and a long cheek scar and a very distinct lack of cleavage.

But she didn't have to know that, did she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Hate it? What are your thoughts? I really want to know, tell me please! *hands you a plate of cookies* Please?


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